


In the Comfort of Your Bedsheets

by clxude



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 576 percent angst free, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, i think this was my favorite thing to write tbh, ushiten - my otp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 19:05:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6532540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clxude/pseuds/clxude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a bird tattooed across his shoulders, and he knew from the moment he saw Wakatoshi, that they were meant to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Comfort of Your Bedsheets

**Author's Note:**

> so i wrote this for day six of ushiten week in june, but i have no chill and i really wanted to post this and it's my birthday and my ship week so i do what the fuck i want and y'all can fight me
> 
> edit: OH MY GOD I FUCKED UP I JUST GOT THE EMAIL FOR A COMMENT ON HERE AND THEN I REREAD THE SUMMERY AND I SAID WEREN'T INSTEAD OF WERE I'M SO SORRY

beta-ed by [Rey](http://kxrasuno.tumblr.com/)

* * *

 

Tendou Satori was born with wing-scarred shoulders. The skin looked tough and pitted, but it was battle tested, battle worn. The bird was ethereal, glistening black, white and gold.

 

He was quiet, though, the complete opposite of his ever moving tattoo. But the bird followed him, along with his quick hand motions and slight bounces whenever someone moved near his crib.

 

The wings grew with him, a feather stroke for every moment he was alive, breathing in time with his soulmate. Black and gold blossomed over his skin. The line work was delicate and ever changing; it was an eagle trapped under his skin.

 

...

 

He was eight, in his third year of elementary school, when it first happened.

 

The laminate floor was shiny under the harsh yellow lights of his school's gymnasium. Everyone was huddled together. Occasionally one of the students would dart forward, just only brushing the ball with nervous fingers before shooting back to the group, the coach's gaze firm on their back.  

 

But, when Tendou stepped forward, he didn't rush back. The wings shifted excitedly on his skin, buzzing and humming and warm, _oh so warm_. Moments like that, when the foamy pleather was rough under his touch, the bond seemed palpable. It made his blood sing until everything, save the black and white ball, faded to gray.

 

Eventually, a girl steered him back to the small circle the others had formed. But, even when class 3-A ran screaming to the net, the sound of the volleyball bouncing on laminate echoed around his mind.

 

...

 

When he told his elder brother late into the night, the teenager laughed.

 

"God, Tendou. I never pegged you to be soulmates with a volleyball." Tendou blushed, glared at the wall beside him.

 

"Onii-san," he whined quietly. "I'm not - I wouldn't... That's not _possible_ right? I'll have a soulmate like you?"

 

The room was silent after that for a long time.

 

_Onii-san must be thinking about his soulmate; he's always thinking about his soulmate._

 

It was a rational thought at the time. Onii-san was so bright and outgoing, a constellation on his back and a boy's number in his phone. But that didn't mean he was confident, and it didn't make him invincible. It couldn’t change the distance between two people, no matter how well you could see the stars.

 

...

 

He was thirteen when he joined the junior high volleyball club, and he felt like his tattoo would leap off his shoulder blades in order to play beside him.

 

He was a starter by the spring tournament his second year, driven by the fierce desire to feel the movements sprawl along his back. The motions were spell binding and distracting, but he jumped higher every time a phantom wing brushed over his collarbone.

 

Eventually, its movement knocked the air clean from his lungs the first time he blocked a ball in a tournament. The _Mikasa_ volleyball, blue and yellow and pristine, rocked into the floor, before rebounding when the spiker fell to Earth.

 

Satori was left standing, his fingers burning and a smile clear on his lips. The eagle froze for an instant, a millisecond, before rushing back in full force with the force of a thunder clap.

 

...

 

There were countless spikes and blocks to follow that game. Not all of them succeeded, but they all set the bird alight, illuminating Tendou Satori until his cheeks flushed and eagles filled his mind.

 

...

 

His third year of junior high, Tendou decided to apply to Shiratorizawa. It was the top school in the prefectural; the mere thought of it sent his tattoo off the deep end.

 

But it was a long shot. His team didn’t stand out, sitting comfortably in the top eight as long as anyone could remember. He could spike better than most, but it wasn't even in the same universe as the players attending Shiratorizawa just to sit on the bench for three years.

 

He could block, though, lurk along in the shadows until he pounced like an alley cat, landing solidly until he was the only one standing, until he was victorious.

 

...

 

"If you go here, you will never be the ace," the coach told him the day he came to tour the campus. "We have Ushijima already; he _will_ lead us to nationals. We could even win."

 

"It's fine, I like blocking more anyway,"

 

...

 

The moment he left the gym, he knew what school he wanted. It never had been a question to begin with.

 

...

 

The first time Tendou saw his spike, it was junior high all over again. He felt the ball snug against his palm, the overwhelming power surge hitting him like twin wing beats.

 

When the ball snapped against the floor, time froze. For the second time in his life, Tendou could feel every individual feather burning into his skin like a motif. The air was electric when the boy landed.

 

_He's mine._

 

...

 

"Are you Ushijima Wakatoshi?"

 

He didn't answer, and it was alright with the red haired boy; he had enough words for both of them.

 

"Coach says you're already guaranteed the ace position for inter-high,"

 

He could feel every inch between them. The space far felt too vast.

 

"I was the ace at my old school, and he said I couldn't have the position anymore once I started going here."

 

He made out a short _hmph_ , a click of the tongue, before Ushijima, _Wakatoshi,_ dribbled the ball once. The window was closing slowly, sealing the space between them. He could tell it wasn't the last nail in the coffin, the complete opposite in fact, but this was Wakatoshi, the boy who sent fluttering eagle feathers across his skin.

 

"I don't mind though, if it means I can keep blocking. It's cooler, anyway. To me, at least."

 

There was a millimeter left until the window pane reached the top, until Ushijima threw the ball into the air.

 

"But, your spikes could be better than my blocks. The best of all, even."

 

The ball skirted the edge of the net just barely, before careening into the floor a centimeter in front of a third year libero.

 

...

 

They were monsters on the court, two first years taking Miyagi by siege.

 

Tendou blocked every ball that dared to pass the net, smashing them down with all the ferocity he used to spike. Ushijima was there next to him, spiking every game until the whistle was blown, until they stood on the stage at nationals.

 

During practice, they were unobtainable.

 

Neither was willing to hold back. Ushijima would spike, unceasing even when Tendou winced painfully. Tendou knocked down every ball, not stopping even when Ushijima frowned as it rolled to his feet.

 

They were volleyball players, _competitors_ , first, soulmates second. Everyone knew without seeing their soulmarks, without fanfare and declarations of love.

 

Ushijima and Tendou simply were.

 

...

 

The week after nationals their second year, they walked home together. It was the same as their first meeting, with Tendou rambling on about his older brother's upcoming wedding, the excitement hanging on from nationals, Ushijima's acceptance to the junior national team.

 

He talked about everything that crosses his mind, only stopping to grip the other boy's hand at crosswalks.

 

...

 

Something shifted in their third year. Nothing between them was accidental and by chance; it was calculated and definite, full of promises of something more on the horizon.

 

Tendou could cling to something more, anything more, if it meant Ushijima.

 

...

 

It was silent as they walked into the arena. It was like that every year before finals. It was nearing the end of the line, but this time it wasn't Seijoh or Datekou or any other team that had fought for the throne. It was an underdog, with more bite than bark and a hell of a back story.

 

And as they walked into the arena, Ushijima'a hand in his felt like the end of the line.

 

...

 

They expected a quick jaunt to nationals. Just a skirmish in the first set, _maybe_ a loss of the second, before sprinting to the finish line with Karasuno a mile behind.

 

It wasn't this, the end of a legacy for Shiratorizawa, the end of a tradition and tears on the bus and spiking drills until even the members who weren't even on the fucking _bench_ could hold their own and _win_.

 

...

 

When they walked home, Ushijima spoke quietly. Tendou held his breath to listen, and even then he could barely make out the words.

 

"I started when I could barely wrap my arms around the ball to pick it up. My father played on a national team. I wanted to be him, _better_ than him, so he would come home and notice me.

 

"But I liked - _like_ \- volleyball more than I thought would. I don't know what I expected, but it's been ten years and I still can't win. I'm still not good enough."

 

He didn't stop even when they reached his house, or his room, or when they stripped out of their warm up uniforms for the last time. He told Tendou of every game and practice match he ever lost, of every hours long practice that left him dry heaving afterwards.

 

They clutched hands, fingers around wrists and legs locked around knees, until Ushijima finished talking and their sweat had dried and crystalized on their skin.

 

A fan was circling lazily overhead. Tendou watched it with hooded eyes. An hour passed in complete silence, filled only with their steady pulse and calm breaths. The slowly circulating air was chilling his skin. He wanted to stand, to shower and warm up and wear pajamas, with his fingers still wrapped around Ushijima's wrist.

 

He wanted that and more, with content silence and familiar companionship.

 

At some point, Ushijima's hands found Tendou's hair, and began to spike it up into its usual style. It had wilted during the game, and even more during practice. The light tugs pulled him under, happy and satisfied and _loved_.

 

Soon, they fell asleep, winded around each other.

 

...

 

Eventually, the sticky sweat between them woke Tendou up. He roused Ushijima and ushered him into the bathroom. The shower was heating up, producing steam that slowly engulfed the whole room.

 

It was a tight squeeze, but they both fit. Tendou traced the raised skin on Ushijima's back but didn't look, reserving it for when Ushijima was ready (he was already ready; he would always be ready). He listened to the pitter-patter of water on slick floor and shut down his mind from trying to rationalize if the droplets on his shoulder were salty or not.

 

...

 

"Is that why your hair is always a mess? Because you fall asleep after showers, when it's still wet?"

 

"Shut up. I spend a lot of time on my hair,"

 

"I could start drying it, for you. If you wanted to."

 

...

 

His eye sight was blurry in the morning light, but he could make out Ushijima's form before him.

 

 _I could get used to this_. 

 

...

 

A month passed after nationals, filled with joint showers and hair drying and hand holding. A month passed, and everything changed.

 

They practiced volleyball in Ushijima's garden, now that club was over. Ushijima taught Tendou to spike again with gentle hands and soft forehead kisses and somewhere along the way, given names started to slip into conversations.

 

_"Come on Satori, watch me. Hold your elbow here - no, stop, not there - and swing over, towards the ball, yes. Come on, Karasuno’s Hinata Shouyou could do better - excellent. That last one was perfect, Satori."_

 

One month faded into two, and two into three. The year was ending, and Tendou Satori wasn't ready to say goodbye to Shiratorizawa.

 

...

 

"I trust you, Satori, more than anyone else."

 

They were tossing around a _Mikasa_ volleyball under the moonlight, sent in express mail from an unknown city in America. Neither of them could read the barely legible scrawl on the box, but with the arrival date a few days before Ushijima's eighteenth birthday, it wasn't difficult to guess the sender.

 

"I never looked, you know. And I won't, Wakatoshi, not until you're positive you want me to."

 

"I am. I’ve always been ready, when it comes to you."

 

...

 

They didn't bother to turn on the lights in Ushijima's room when they came back in. The full moon was bright enough to cast dim shadows in the ace's bedroom.

 

Satori tugged off Ushijima's shirt, quickly folding it before placing it on top of his pillow. The blocker's fingers trailed along his neck, drifting down his shoulders and arms. He stopped when he reached Wakatoshi's wrist. His pulse was quicker than normal, but reassuring all the same.

 

He felt the other teenager take a deep breath before standing and turning around. He could feel wings shifting on his back as struggled to make out the shape on Ushijima's back.

 

It was vaguely humanoid and wouldn't look out of place in one of Tendou's late night horror movie binges, with its long hair and skeletal fingers.

 

He reached out, touching the tattoo lightly. He gasped in a breath in sync with Wakatoshi. The feeling was overwhelming, a million times more powerful than holding hands but just as nice.

 

"What is it?" His words seemed too loud, but for once, no one seemed to care.  

 

"It's a monster that legend said to live in Gifu. It could read people's minds. But, it was never clear on whether it would help you, or eat you alive."

 

The ace pauses and took a deep breath before continuing. Tendou could feel him fidget under his touch. He drew away his hand, but Ushijima caught it as he turned around. His eyes were supernovas in the soft light.

 

"They're called Satori,"

 

...

 

They went to college together on volleyball scholarships. The decision was as obvious to everyone as the fact they were soulmates. They were made for each other, the Guess Monster and the spiking demon.

 

...

 

Sometimes, the wings would shift again. It was rare most of time.

 

But during games, whenever Wakatoshi hit a particularly powerful spike that crashed through all the blockers, Satori's tattoo would flap its wings.

 

But being close to each other, pinkies linked and hips bumping as they walked, was more than enough to know they belonged together.

 


End file.
